The Hunt
by Extraho
Summary: The Queen has miscarried, and the king is drunk. Dean Winchester catches his eye, and by god it is the most beautiful creature he has ever laid eye upon. But he is not so willing. Can the king slash persuade him? Or simply take him? slash,Dean/Henry xover
1. Chapter 1

A/N; So I'm placing out feelers for a Supernatural/Tudor crossover: Dean/King Henry I have about 40 pages written, but I'd like to know if anyone would be interested. I'll post regardless, but I'm always open and eager for my readers thoughts and suggestions. Warnings for now are undecided, apart from Slash, as always. I'll move this story to the Tudor a few chapters in and eventually to the crossover section, as per regulations. Now now I'm switching it around to gain an audience- not a lot of people check out the xovers all that often. Enjoy!

...

Dean was exhausted. He had been up since before dawn, working. He had made breakfast, seen Sam off to work, hunted a deer for the king's dinner and helped in the kitchens as was his job.

Dean was 21 years old, a hunter by profession, as his father, John. He could hunt anything. Animals, supernaturals, and if he had to, humans. His father was famous in all of Europe for his hunting skills. But that did not put a roof over their heads. Occasionally he took mercenary work, because it paid extremely well for someone as good as him. Dean was very grateful to their father. After their mother died, John had gone off the rails, leaving four year old Dean to take care of Sammy while his father drank himself to a near death. But John had gotten a hold of himself. The only reason Dean knew of his father drinking, was because his father had told him; told him how destroyed he was to loose their mother, and how much he loved them; they were his reason to live.

Knowing this, Dean never had a problem their father not being around too much, a sentiment his brother Sammy did not share. He knew their father loved them and only had their best interest at heart. Often that meant not staying too long. Because of his fame, his father was at times hunted by demons. Sammy did not remember, having been barely three, but once, a demon had come into their house, intending to kill them all.

But this left Dean alone to raise his brother. All Dean ever wanted was the best for his Sammy. He had raised him, taught him to read and write both English and Latin. Dean had taught himself, just to teach Sammy. His little brother's dream was to become a lawyer, a dream Dean was working day and night to make happen. He had begged and pleaded with a local lawyer to let Sammy help in the office. Even if he had to do it for free. If his brother could just watch, he would learn. That was why Dean was working for the king, doing anything he was asked.

He knew the only reason he got the job was because of his looks. He was exceptionally pretty- yes, pretty. With his lithe body, green eyes, plush lips, sun kissed skin and golden blond hair, he was pretty. And the king liked pretty things. Rather, in the case of his male staff, he wished to present the best England had to offer. But he also paid better than any other employer in the country, except the brothels. Boy prostitutes were hard to come by.  
>But that was why Dean was now, at two AM, heading up to the king's chambers with a meal. He had been the only one still there, as the others had gone to bed, so tonight, a late summer night, Dean Winchester was about to meet the king for the first time in his life. Possibly the last. If he was awake.<br>He was nervous.

He knew he could get fired if the king didn't like... his hair. Or his boots. Or even just the food he'd brought, even if he didn't cook it. And he needed this job. It was either this, the brothels, or take Sammy out of school. Their father brought more than enough money when he did come, and he made much more than he would if he lived in London working as a hunter, or even a soldier, as he had been in his youth. Not with two children, and no wife. Though, 'no wife' was probably a lot cheaper than being married. The trouble as, that as a minor until the age of 22, he was not allowed, by law, to keep more than a certain amount in the house, and he was not allowed to take money out of the bank without his father present.

And of course, his top expense, the Impala. His beautiful horse. His father had give her to him as a foal, the daughter of his own stallion, Chevy. She was the gem of his eye. So between the brothels, taking Samy out of his make-shift school, or selling Impala, he'd go to the brothels. Dean frowned at the thought of selling her as he neared the king's chamber. He saw the silhouette of a sleeping guard outside the big double doors.

Impala was currently at his uncle Bobby's stables, where they lived, close to the lawyers office, and close enough to the castle for Dean walk there on time. He'd take her on hunts, then take her home. He would not have her tied up at the castle, as it would make her unbelievably cranky. Initially, Dean had intended to work for his uncle, but the king paid more than it would cost Bobby to hire a hand. Bobby was just as set on helping Sammy as Dean was. He could afford another hand when he needed it.

Carefully, he pushed open the door to the king's chambers, supporting the tray of food on his hip. He nearly dropped the tray as he saw the king - the king in just his trousers by the window, a bottle of wine dangling from his hand.

"Your majesty," Dean spoke, "I have the midnight snack you requested," he spoke softly. The king just took another swig of his wine.

.~*~.

Henry was miserable. He was drunk. Very drunk. Katherine had miscarried. Again. A son this time. He desperately needed a distraction, but all his mistresses were asleep, or not in the castle. He heard the door open quietly, and the soft pad of quiet feet on the floor, "Your majesty," he heard so soft, and oddly appealing voice speak, "I have the midnight snack you requested."

Oh dear lord. He took another swig of his bottle. He turned around, supporting himself on the wall, and came face to face with the most beautiful creature he had ever seen. He frowned. Was it a girl or a boy...? He couldn't tell. He took an unsteady step closer, inspecting the... person. A boy, he was fairly sure. But those lips. And those glowing green eyes. Too pretty to be a boy. But a boy.

"Um, I'll put it down by your bed, sire," the boy mumbled and moved quickly and soundlessly to the table by his bed.

Henry followed, fascinated. "W's your name?" he slurred.

The boy put the tray down and turned around. Henry stood very close. Dean looked up at him with wide eyes, "D-Dean, sire."

"Dean...?" he gestured.

"Winchester, sire," Dean replied.

The king cocked his head, and brought a hand to Deans face, caressing him, "Too pretty fo' a boy." he leaned down and inhaled deeply. He smelled of horses - the good kind, and fresh air and grass. He didn't know if the moan he heard was the boy's or his own, but he needed a taste.

.~*~.

A/N; So as said, I'm placing out feelers for a Supernatural/Tudor crossover: Dean/King Henry I have about 40 pages written, but I'd like to know if anyone would be interested. I'll post regardless, but I'm always open and eager for my readers thoughts and suggestions. Warnings for now are undecided, apart from Slash, as always. I'll move this story to the Tudor a few chapters in and eventually to the crossover section, as per regulations. Now now I'm switching it around to gain an audience- not a lot of people check out the xovers all that often. I hope you enjoyed the story so far.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: I'm actually sitting in the gardens in the Tower of London writing today. Well, I was until it started raining :S. Major M and dub/non con warning in this chapters.

...

Dean was shaking as the king was backing him up against the bed. The man was much bigger than he had though. "Your majesty -" he stuttered.

"You smell good..." the king muttered and wrapped his arms around the youth and stuck his nose into the crook of his neck. "God..."

Dean yelped as he felt damp lips and a hot wet tongue slide against his skin, "Sire -" he stuttered and tried to push away, but he was too tired and his muscles exhausted. The warm and big hands on his waist slid down to cup his arse, squeezing roughly, pulling them apart.

Oh no. This was not happening, Dean thought. Winchesters, both the men and women, always waited for marriage, and he refused to be the first to not follow that tradition. "No -" he hissed and twisted and struggled. His resistance only resulted in the kings legs slipping between his own, and that hard swollen front of his trousers was pressed against his entrance through their clothes.

The hunter gasped for breath as the king laid on top of him, feeling strong, too strong hands along his body, undoing the ties and baring his body to the warm air in the room. He nearly screamed as they came skin to skin. How could a human being be so warm? Suddenly the king moved away and before knew what had happened, or gotten a chance to move away, he had a face full of fur and pillows as he was thrown down on his belly.

His shoes disappeared from his feet and his legs spread wide. The thick muscled arm of the king curled under his thighs, holding on to his hips- Dean kicked a wiggled until he tightened his grip so he could not move at all. Not that he did not try.

Dean cursed and thrashed the best he could, anticipating pain any second, but - oh god, how could he -ah. Dean's hands clenched in the soft furs as something hot and slick wiggled into his entrance. "No -" he whimpered. He jerked at each stabbing motion of the king's tongue, and shivered at each long swipe and the hot breath against his skin. But he hated it.

Soon a finger joined, then two, then three. It burned. Tears gathered in Dean's eyes, from the sting and his humiliation. When would he tell his father? "No -, please -" he cried, tears slipping down his cheeks as the large spongy head pressed against his barrier, "please don't -" but his pleas fell of deaf ears as the king slid deep into his vulnerable, untried body. "Ow-" he gasped, hot tears dripping form his chin and soaking into the fur.

He felt the pressure build and something part painfully and give way as the king slid fully in, bottoming out. Desperate to get away from the pain, he scratched and clawed at the king, but the king mere grabbed his hands, and pinned his wrists over his head. Dean felt like a pinned butterfly.

Henry started moving; he pulled out, and thrust deep, hitting a spot that made Dean yelp as his nervous system was shocked. Oh Lord... that.. was that -. The king moved again, hitting the same spot. Evey time. So Dean prayed for forgiveness for disappointing his father, as well as deliverance from the king.

Dean cried out as the pleasure blasted through the paid. The king assaulted that spot inside of him with a viciousness that made his body sing like a tense violin string. His cock was tearing brutally through his body, hitting him_ there_ harder and harder. He couldn't see straight. It hurt. His rim clung to the sizable shaft as it slid smoothly through him by every thrust. He fought the king at every corner, even though his bones were like water and his muscles did not obey. Bruises started forming and the king's teeth cut into his shoulder. It hurt so much, but it felt so good.

His eyes rolled tot he back of his scull, and tears streamed down his cheeks as the only innocence he had left was taken from him, pleasure, fear, pain and humiliation. The king's powerful body kept him caged, his muscled as hard as rock, locked around the young hunter. Dean's nails were tearing into the older man, having no choice but to hang on... and _oh_. Dean started shaking. Oh God..._ God_... he couldn't breathe... The pressure inside him was so intense, he thrashed to get away from it, but his bucking did nothing but meet the kings movements, taking him deeper.

The king groaned as the young hunter tensed on the brink of orgasm as his body tightened. Their skin slick with sweat their bodies slid again each other. Deans calves curled instinctively over the kings thighs, his body jerking in involuntary blinding pleasure and strangled whimpers by every conquering deep thrusts were splitting him in two, but the insistent pressure on his prostate drove him so much higher. The king moved deeper, harder and faster and Dean _screamed_.

~*~.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

When Henry woke up to the rays of the sun hitting his face, it was to the instant feeling of nausea and pain. Hangover to be exact. But he was exhausted. Whoever he fucked much have been good. Hm..n who was she?

He opened his eyes to see a tray of food on the table by his bed. The bottle of oil next to it had been knocked over and was pooling on the dark wood. his room smelled like sex. Sex and blood. Blood?

Henry sat up, and grimaced as the sheets stuck to his skin. He tore the sheets of, to see seed stains... and blood. Not much. Just a few smudges. But some was on his groin, which was alarming.

He looked at the tray of food, the bottle on the floor and the blood in his lap. He frowned. The... oh good Lord in heaven. The boy. He'd had intercourse with a boy. Blood. He'd hurt the boy. Had he... raped...him? Henry dared not think the thought.

He laid back down in a feeble attempt to make the throbbing in his scull lessen as the memories flooded back. Dean, young Dean Winchester. Blond, green eyed, pretty, beautiful even. His skin had been butter soft, and warm. So tight and hot, it made Henry harden at the thought. Then he remembered the blood, and he deflated. What had he done?

What should he do? Ignore it? Hope he never saw him again? Apologise? Give him a raise? Avoid him? No, a king did not avoid a teenage boy. Henry groaned and covered his eyes, was he boy even of age?

The sun had risen and Dean, ruffled, exhausted, in pain and he was sure, bloody, had finally set his nose homeward. He didn't know what to think of the nights events. The king had forced himself on him. And it had been incredibly painful. And it was still incredibly painful, he thought as he took a shortcut through the kings garden. He halted briefly as a dull sting throbbed through his lower stomach. But... that sort of pleasure he had never known. He had made him spill all of three times before he had emptied himself within Dean. Then the king had promptly fallen into a drunken slumber, on top of, and inside of the youth. Deep. And hard. the king just had not seemed to go soft.

He'd heard the queen had a miscarriage again. That was probably why the king was in such a drunken state. Dean bit his lip and cringed at every step. There was something wet, sticky and hot running down his legs. He did not want to guess what it was. Slowly, he crawled up the stairs to his bedroom. He pushed open the doors, took the few steps that it took to get to his bed, crawled under the covers, and fell into a deep sleep.

It took another two days before Dean was healed enough to move around without too much pain. Lucky as it were, it was Saturday, 1st of October and the cook had loudly let him know that the only reason he still had his job was because the king loved his meat. By his 'meat', the cook meant the deer, and other animals Dean caught, but it still made him flinch. His back still ached, and he could not walk or move around for too long.

With a pained sigh, he resigned to his fate as he took the deer and started flaying it carefully.

Henry was pacing back and forth in his office. A maid came in with a cloth to clean any dust that might have settled from the previous day, "Maid, tell me what you know of Dean Winchester?"

The maid jumped as she was addressed by the king, "Um, the hunter, sire?"

"If I knew everything about him, I would not ask," he scowled, "5'11, blond, green eyes, too pretty for his own good."

The maid blushed, "Oh, he is the best hunter in your employment sir. He is very smart and dedicated to his family. His father was a general, but is now a hunter and he travels much. Dean lives alone with his uncle and younger brother. As far as I know, every penny he makes goes to fund his brothers education, sire," she said, "He is pleasant and sociable. He," she blushed, "-is quite the charmer -"

Henry scowled.

"But he never takes advantage, though I know many who would not mind-" she was now beet red. "He is a devout believer, although I don't know how he worships."

Henry nodded thoughtfully. He didn't give a royal shit in how the boy worshipped. "Is he an acceptable rider?"

"Yes, sire."

"Is he literate?"

"Yes sire, in English and Latin, as far I know."

Henry raised a brow. Commoners, who were not doing academic work, were usually not literate, and if they were then usually just in the necessary workings of financial matters and sermons. That made Dean Winchester interesting. "And how does he fare in his work?"

"Excellent, sir, as I said, he is the best hunter, and the others obey his orders. The cooks adore him, he is ever so helpful, even if they say he talks too much."

"A good man then," Henry concluded. "How old is he?"

"Twenty-one, I believe."

Henry cursed under his breath. The boy wasn't even legal. Even as king, he was in so much trouble. He had himself implemented the laws that prohibited older men, regardless of social standing, taking advantage of the younger in true Greek fashion. Mostly because he had witnessed some priests doing more than teaching his peers the sermons. Of course, that had never happened to him. He'd always been a loudmouthed brat, and a royal. The risk was more than it was worth for them in that case. Of course, the same could not be applied to girls as they frequently married before that age. There he set it to sixteen if married, eighteen if not, but engaged. But then women were more susceptible for men just doing as they pleased, without their consent, which was never acceptable, though Henry knew from experience that getting those dresses off was not easy task, and there as always the risk of pregnancy- which as why young boys often found themselves in tricky situations. It had been his first act as a king. He was not heartless. But now it seemed it was come to bite his arse. Hard.

Henry waved his hand, dismissing her.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

"Invite him for a hunt," Henry said. Henry had been moody all day, and whenever he spoke, it was about that damn boy

"What?" Charles replied, "Why?"

Henry shot him a look, "I've been told he is an excellent hunter."

"Yes, and what should he ride? A donkey? The boy works in the kitchen, he does not have a horse."

"Then borrow him one," Henry replied easily, "I have many. I want him on the hunt tomorrow. Excuse him from work, and inform him. We meet at ten AM."

~*~..

"Dean," Elena caught up with the older boy, "I heard Sarah telling the cook that the king asked of you today," she said with a smile on her face.

Dean stiffened. He took a breath and tried to make his voice steady, "What did he want?" he asked gruffly.

Elena paused, "You should be more respectful to the king."

"Asides from his lineage, and paying my wages, he is just another man I do not know. I'll be sure to add the titles when I speak with him myself," he muttered as he worked on the deer.

"My, you are in a foul mood today," she said, "He asked all sorts of questions. Your work, demeanour, family -"

Dean paused, "And what did you tell him?"

"Only that you're the best hunter in his employment, that you're a adorable, - though with some mouth on you. And that you spend every penny you earn on your brother."

"That is not entirely true," Dean protested.

"Yeah, I forgot," she rolled her eyes, "-you buy treats for your precious baby," she teased.

"Mr. Winchester," they heard a man call. They both turned around to see Charles Brandon, one of the king's best friends looking around curiously as he approached them.

Dean stood up and greeted the man, "What can I do for you, sir?" he asked.

"The king has told me, to give you this," he said and handed him a letter, "It is an invitation to tomorrows hunt. He expects you to be ready at ten AM, if you do not have a horse, you can borrow one at the stables-"

"I have work," Dean replied and turned back to the deer, "Tell the king he doesn't pay me to play around chasing foxes."

Charles paused. Did that boy just turn down an invitation from the king? He cocked his head. How curious. "The king must be clairvoyant," he said, "he also told me that I should not take no for an answer, that you will be compensated for a days missed work. He is most eager to see his best hunter in action," he added sweetly. "A personal advice, if you do not show up, you might find yourself out of a job, in stead of being paid to chase foxes." He gave the blond boy a short nod, then he turned to leave.

"Fuck..." Dean groaned.

Elena just shook her head, "The king wants to see you personally. It's a great honour."

"Right... "

~*~..

"He wants what?" Bobby looked up from his desk.

"To join his hunting party tomorrow," Dean repeated.

Bobby put aside the book he was reading on djinn lore and studied the young man in front of him. "And you not wanting to go might just have something to do with you returning and ruffled and bloody a few nights back?" he cocked a brow at Dean, "And I know you have not been hunting anything but deer in the past three weeks."

Usually, Dean only hunted with his father, as he was still very young, but he could do simple hunts close by, when needed. He was quickly gaining his own name. Though he was certain it was only because he was a Winchester, and the work he did when with his father. Ghosts, vampires and the occasional demon was hardly something to get famous for in the hunter community, though it did give a rep of dependability and skill. Not many could take down demons.

"Yeah,..."

"Gonna tell me what happened?"

"No?" Dean looked doubtfull - because he was sure Bobby would not let him get away with it.

Bobby just shook his head, "Fine, but only cause I'm busy up to my neck. Go on the hunt - and dress in your usual hunting attire, not that scruffy thing you work in- tough I doubt the king will strain himself, and give the man a show, prove to him why you're the best he has. Maybe you'll get a raise- or hunt with him more often. It's a days pay for half a days play, Dean. That in itself is a promotion."

Dean nodded. Bobby and his father never pressured him to work, but since he did, they did pressure him to do his best and succeed. Building contacts and making your name, they said. He supposed having friends in court, or people who admired his skill, would be useful at some point, if not being him work.

Now if he could only avoid spending time with the king as much as he could.

~*~..

A/N; Y'know, I don't think anyone knows how amazing it is to sit on the steps outside of the Tower of London and write this story. It just seems so incredibly real to imagine all the people running around, when you're sitting where they walked, talked and did their business five hundred years ago. It's just a priceless writing environment.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

The next morning saw Dean dressed in all dark brown leathers, with black ties. The leather was well oiled, as per usual, but not shiny. It was meant to blend in, easy to clean, have a good grip on the horseback, regardless of saddle and be easy to his weapons in without making him look bulky, not be showy. Impala was shining, as she always was. He's always oil her hide after the morning work, to make it soft, shiny and easy to room, and of course, so that dirt did not stick. She was a cross breed of an English pureblood, her mother, and a Netherlands Frisian, her father, John's stallion which made her as elegant as a posh breed, but bigger, and more muscular and her tale and mane was long, tick and wavy, as opposed to the thin silky mane of the English pureblood horses. It was just as shiny as her hide.

She truly as Dean's pride, his companion, and the only soul in the world he truly trusted. Both because she couldn't talk, and because she was fast, strong, light on her feet and always got him out of- or into - trouble when he needed to.

That said, she was a temperamental lady.

She was tripping on the spot as they waited for the rest of the hunting party to show up. Dean was sitting on the steps, watching her with amusement, "I know sweetheart," he called, "We'll be on our way soon enough." Impala just snorted and stomped her feet.

"I think the stable master intended to play you a fool when they gave you that horse," he heard the voice of Charles Brandon behind him, "It is both too big, and too unruly for a young man like yourself."

Dean didn't even both to turn around, "The sable master is no fool..." he countered. "Though de said the same thing. However, I should know better, considering I trained her."

"So a hunter and a horse trainer," Charles said sardonically, "There is no bound to your skills."

"A spoiled brat and a poor at insults, there is no bound to your talents either, it seems."

..

"Now now," they heard the king behind them, "Let's not get into killing mood before we find a suitable prey shall we?"

The stable master came with the king's horse, while the stable boys came with the horses for the rest of the party. All in all, they ere six. The king, Brandon, Dean, Thomas Howard, William Compton and Anthony Knivert

"Winchester, you insolent brat," the stable master snapped as Impala unsettled the other horses, "Get that demon of yours tied up, or you'll find yourself a horse less!"

The king arched a brow. He noticed that Dean had not stood up when he came. In fact, he hadn't even moved.

The stable masters threat made Dean snap out of his momentary panic at the proximity of the king. Dean just snorted, "How dare you call my princess a demon, you priest!" he called back, amusement in his voice. Regardless, he got up, and with grace he leaped up on her back. He cringed as his lower back stung, but laughed as Impala nudged his foot playfully.

Henry mounted his own horse, with a small relieved smile on his face. At least he had not hurt him too bad. The rest of the men mounted their horse quickly as well. Charles immediately cam up next to the king, and the rest followed.

..

Dean made sure to stay at the back, as far from the king as he could, next to William Compton. "Good morning," William said. "William Compton here," he nodded in greeting.

"Dean Winchester," Dean replied.

"I know," William smirked, "The king has barely shut up about you."

"And what does his majesty have to say?" Dean asked, though, he was sure he didn't want to know the answer.

"That's the thing; he keeps talking, but he's not saying much," William glanced over at him, taking in the image of the blond youth riding that magnificent black creature, "That intrigues me."

"How so?" Dean knew he was not making much of an effort to be nice, but he wasn't the sort of person to blow his charms up anyone's arse, more importantly, wear his emotions on his sleeve. That was Sammy's job.

"He is more of the 'few words that say enough' type," William grinned, "Much like yourself it seems."

"Are you comparing me to the king?" Dean asked snidely, a small grin on his face.

William laughed heartily, "Like drops of water!" he exclaimed.

"Will!"

William's attention was brought forward by Howard's voice, "Yeah?"

"The king wants Winchester front and centre."

"I'm good back here," Dean replied with a scowl, but Impala was clearly not of the same opinion as she snorted and made her displeasure known.

William waggled his brows at Howard who had a surprised expression on his face. "You'll find that the king don't take no for an answer," he replied, amused.

Dean huffed and let the reins an inch, letting Impala shoot straight into a canter, catching up the king in seconds. She was slightly bigger than the king's white stallion, and even though he rose side by side with the monarch, her head was slightly ahead. Although, the white stallion was stunning. Charles glared at him as he did not fall in just behind the king, as the rest.

..

In the back, Howard chuckled, "You are right, they really are alike, if not in looks, then temper."

William grinned, "Long ears, Thomas?"

Howard grinned.

"Do you actually intend to hunt anything with a bow and arrows, Winchester?" Charles asked. "Are you stuck in the Dark Ages?

"Do you intend to hunt anything more than one animal, after you've scared off the rest with that brutish rifle, Brandon," Dean countered. "And leave your servants to sew the leather into something usable after your powder has made half of it shredded?"

..

Henry was a tad surprised at the exchanges between his best friend and his... hunter. They did not seem to like each other much. "She is magnificent," he interrupted, hoping to keep the peace, "I'm sure the stable master would love to breed her."

"It will be over my dead body that Mr. Fink get his hands on my girl," Dean snorted, "If he'd like to borrow a stallion, he's welcome, but my girl is not up for breeding," he said and rubbed her neck and she raised her head, seeming to agree. "Besides, every stallion that has tried, ended up with a hoof on his nose."

The king grinned, "Then perhaps -"

"And she's not for sale."

"You drive a tough bargain. I'd do much for an animal like her. She seems to have boundless energy."

Dean glanced at the king, for the first time, "It's not a bargain," he said, "She's not for sale."

Henry was stumped. He knew that Dean would be anything but forthcoming, but his status as king usually had even people who greatly disliked him at least keeping up polite conversation. Dean seemed to have no such qualms. Not that he could blame him. "She is restless," he heard Dean say.

His head snapped up to the young man, "Sorry?"

"She is restless," Dean said gruffly, "I usually let her out at dawn, that why she is in such a rowdy mood."

"Ah,..." Henry really was not used to being spoken to like this. Like someone was angry with him, and was not threatened by him not to let him have it as he deserved. Though he had to say that Deans voice was really pleasant. Like the king of voice you'd want to hear if you had a migraine. Not loud, but deep and easily heard. "Would a canter - or a race, ease her temper?" Dean nodded. "Then after you, hunter." Henry said held his horse back a margin to let Dean come to front

Dean took the opportunity to let Impala go. He buried his hands in her mane, so he was prepared when she suddenly reared up and sprang into a long spaced gallop, stretching her long powerful legs.

Dean felt the wind in his face, and the thick mane in his hands as Impala flew across the ground. Easily and with good margin she jumped a fallen tree. Reluctantly Dean reigned her in as they reached a clearing. It was not a good idea to race there, because of the high grass; they would not be able to see any potholes and the last thing he ever wanted was for his princess to be injured.

Seconds later the king and his men halted behind him. Dean made a sign for them to be silent and pointed towards the trees. There was a stag standing at the edge of the forest, just within the range of his bow. He pulled it over his shoulder, and set the arrow, aim and-

"What are you aiming at? The stag? Surely you wont hit it from here?" Kinvert yelled, sitting on his horse besides Brandon, who was smiling smugly.

The stag raised its head, flicked its ears and disappeared into the tick forest. Dean sighed, "I won't now..." he said, but did not say the obvious. He had no need to please these men. Howard and Compton seemed alright, he had not quite gotten a read on what the king truly had said to them, which left him uncertain of whether they were just humouring him.

..

Howard turned to the king, "He does not seem easily impressed, sire."

"Tell me about it," Henry mumbled under his breath.

"Or to like us much - though he seems to get along with Compton." He smiled to himself as the king scowled. Daen turned around his mare and put his bow over his shoulder, and the arrow back in its case. "We'll catch the next one," he called. "We'll need something to eat on this hunt!" he said, making the king chuckle.

Not catching the stag put Dean in a mood. "We will catch the next one," the king said as he came up to his side.

"There wont be a 'next one'" Dean sighed, "The stag will take his herd out of the area, we'll be hard pressed to catch up."

"Oh," Henry said, "So you hunt much deer then?"

Dean chuckled, "Only every week for your dinner."

Henry frowned, "But wont that thin the herds out?"

Dean shook his head, "Nah, not if you take the right one. Never take the mothers or the kids. Just the young males- preferably not the fittest one. As soon as they reach maturity, a few will run off, joining other flocks- the doe's won't mate with their own, but most will die. The stag, if not hunted, will be killed in battle when his young ones reaches maturity."

"So there went our dinner then," Henry said with a quirk of a smile.

Dean shrugged, "There went our steak, but there is always much to find in the forest."

Henry nodded. He'd always hunted for sports, not for feeding, so this was new to him. "Why don't you use a rifle? Don't you have one?"

Dean laughed. He actually laughed. If the king saw the armoury - his armoury, he'd be surprised, "Oh I have many, but I don't use them for hunting animals."

"Then what do you use them for?" Henry said, humouring him.

"Everything else." Dean said, "Winchesters are hunters, have been for generations. We're the best, we can hunt anything, anywhere, as long as you pay the price."

Henry pondered this, "So if I told you to hunt a man, would you do it?"

"If someone cannot be taken by the law, it's usually personal. I don't do wounded pride. It always gets messy. Too messy."

"Good to know."

"You're welcome."

Henry glanced behind them to see that the rest were quite a bit behind, having left them to talk in peace. "I'm sorry," he said.

"I said you're welcome -" Dean looked at him.

"No, I'm sorry," Henry repeated, "For..." could he even man up to say it? "-hurting you."

Dean was stunned. He had never expected an apology from the king, but hearing it just made him angry. He leaned closer, "If you were anyone but the king of England himself, your body would be floating in Thames, so fuck your apology."

Henry sat back, surprised. He had never apologised to anyone in his life; he had not imagined his first to be met by such a reaction. "I -"

Dean shook his head, "I'd like you to consider this hunt my formal resignation," he bit and turned Impala to head towards the river. It was a hot day and the horses needed water.

As he reached the river, Dean slid off of Impala and lowered himself carefully on the ground. His back ached from the ride and wished for this day to be over as soon as it possibly could. As looking up to scan the area, he spotted a stag - a different one, but no less beautiful. He took out his bow and placed the arrow, aimed and let the arrow fly. 


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N; 529 people read this story every time I post a new chapter, only seven - .upon., SlytherinQueen020, ana, laffertyluver23, Sabaku no Sable, cricket5144 and KairaiGensou spares the few seconds it takes to review- so this chapter is for you!**

Chapter 6;

As Henry, Howard, Brandon, Compton and Knivert reached the river, Dean was standing over a large stag with impressive antlers. "What on earth did you say to make the boy so angry," William asked. "Propose to bed him?" Henry just glared at him. William arched a brow, "Oh dear that was the case then?" Then he sniggered, "Proving not to be such an easy catch then? You might actually have to do something other than flash your flag at this one," he winked.

"He resigned," he replied quietly.

William lost his teasing expression in a flash, "That's... not quite what I'd anticipated..."

"He really does hate me..." He whispered to himself and got off his horse. And for some reason, this once, that stung. He just didn't know that William had heard him.

William walked down to Dean by the riverside, intending to resolve whatever it was his king had made a mess of. "Dean," he greeted. "What a stag!" Dean didn't even look at him. William sighed, "Henry told me you resigned..." Still not a word. "He's quite upset."

"I'm sure..." Dean muttered.

William smiled; at last, words! He does not show his emotions easily, but when we left this morning, he was hopeful, and now he's in a mood. Care to burst the bubble?"

"No."

"He seems quite fond of you." Not a word. William sighed, "Quite taken, actually. At least be thankful he didn't start sending you flowers, chocolate and jewellery!" Dean glanced up at him with an odd expression on his face. "Dean, in our twenty years of hunting here- or chasing foxes, as it were," he winked, "he has never invited anyone else- not even his own brother."

"Maybe he actually wished to eat this time."

"Now you're just being pig headed," William said good naturally. "If you have not noticed, you are quite stunning, so who can blame the king for being blinded by your beauty?"

"His wife," Dean bit, trying hard to let his emotions get away with him.

"Ah.." William nodded, "So you are one of those. You believe in the sanctity of marriage."

"I believe in the sanctity of commitment, and respect, regardless of whether bound by contract or not," Dean replied as he carefully flayed the skin of the hid leg of the stag to cut out a few good pieces of meat without damaging the hide, "Something I believe his majesty to be incapable of."

"Ouch..." William said and sat down, "So you're not at all attracted to the king?" he asked, "You do not like men?"

"I don't like the king." Dean specified. "And I'm starting not to like you."

"Oh come on," he said and stood up, "What did he do to anger you so? Bed your mother? Omph!" He landed hard on his back as Dean swept his legs out from underneath him.

"Now you listen here, whatever issue I have with the king, is between him and me. If you ever insult my mother, may her soul rest in peach, believe me, you shall see my hunting skills in proper use," he said and stepped off.

William drew air into his lungs, gasping. Oh dear lord, what had Henry gotten himself into. He felt arms grab him and lift him to his feet. He watched Dean walk away, obviously intending to jump on his horse and leave now that he had gotten their stag for them.

"What did you say?" Howard asked.

"I just told him the king seemed quite taken with him, and wondered why he was being so hostile-" he said.

"And?"

"If the reason was that Henry bedded his mother..." he glanced up at the king, who was standing next to him.

"Compton you idiot -" he said and ran after the youth. The though of the back of Dean's retreating form was the last he would ever see of him, made Henry's heart hurt. "Dean -" he called. He caught up with him soon, beside his horse, and grabbed his arm, forceing him to turn, "Dean, at least stay to enjoy the food," he said.

"No thank you."

"Dean please," Henry said and grabbed him with both hands to keep him there. "I know my apology is inadequate, and unwanted, but you must believe me when I say my heart ache with sorrow for how I hurt you-"

"Spare your waxing for your mistresses, your majesty -" Dean spat and twisted to get loose.

The king just held him tighter, "Please, I'll give you anything you wish for compensation." If only it would ease his guilt.

"Nothing," Dean hissed, "-can compensate for what you took from me," and tore loose. The king grabbed him again and spun him around. Dean lost his balance and had to lean on Henry not to fall. And then the king kissed him. It was hot and needy. It penetrated his soul as it did his lips; the king licked the roof of his mouth and made him shiver.

As soon as Dean caught his footing, he bit down and pushed the king hard away from him. With a splash, the king landed in the ice cold shallow river. Dean panted, "Enjoy your stag," he said and spat on the ground, needing to rid of that intoxicating taste.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

The king sat in his hot bath drinking deeply from his wide, hoping to melt the frost that seemed stuck in his body. He wanted to get drunk. He wanted to forget that day, hoping to wake up and find it a dream. "So what was that at the riverside today, sire?" Charles asked, "Are you holding a torch for the boy? Or is your cock?"

"I don't know..." Henry sighed.

"You must know," Charles replied, "Do you want to fuck the boy, or court him?"

Truth be told, Henry though, the young hunter awakened every dormant protective instinct in his being.

The only thing he didn't want to do him, was hurt him. "Oh lord, you are developing something other than lust-"

"Guilt may be much of it," Henry admitted.

"Whatever for? Did you bed him and break his heart?"

"I only bedded him... I don't remember exactly." Charles just stared at him. "It was the night the queen miscarried -"

"Oh fuck... you took advantage of him?"

"I don't know - I know I hurt him. Probably both..."

"How do you know you hurt him?"

Henry glared at him, "There was blood on my bed - and me."

"And you thought that the best way of asking forgiveness was forcing your tongue down his throat?" Charles asked, frustrated. It certainly explained the boys hostile attitude. "You really need to get control of your cock..."

"I needed to apologise..."

"Not the best way to do it - why don't you try the non-invasive traditional ways? Send letter, show up on his doorstep, gifts?"

"He is so beautiful..." Henry muttered, tipsy.

Charles made a face. Oh lord...

~*~

It was several weeks later, when Dean was vomiting into a chamber pot that Sam waked into his room, only to see several crisp letters on his desk and beautifully wrapped boxes on the floor, unopened. "Dean," he said, "You shoulder seriously go to a doctor. Dad is coming home and you know he'll swear up and down that you've been cursed by something" He looked at the obviously stupidly expensive things on the table, "And who is sending you these things? Aren't you gonna open the letters?"

Dean's only reply was another groan as he tried to not throw up again. He just waved at his brother, hoping he would leave him alone.

Instead Sam took it as permission to read a letter.

_Dear Dean, _

_My courier tells me that my letters and parcels are on your desk, unopened. While it does not surprise me, as many were returned, and I've been told, all attempted, my soul is aching for your company and any living being within these walls can tell you of what your absence makes of me. I beg of you, as a man who misses you sorely and is truly bathing in the deepest rivers of regret, to please join me for dinner the coming Saturday._

_With everything I have to give, _

_Henry_

Sam's eyebrows flew to his hairline. He folded the letter neatly and put it back in its envelope. Who was this Henry guy? With renewed curiosity, he picked up the letter at the bottom of the pile.

_Dear Dean, _

_I am deeply sorry for my behaviour during this mornings hunt, and that of Brandon and Compton, who also offer their sincere apologies. I also hope you know of my most sincere regret and remorse for our previous encounter. I hope that you can find it in your heart, if not forgive, then accept my gift. _

_I accept you decision to leave my employment, but I cannot stress enough that should you decide to return, you will be welcomed with open arms and grateful stomachs. Your hunting skill is unsurpassed by any, and no one has any unkind words of you._

_Your presence is like sunshine within the walls of this dreary castle and I fear the maids are aiming their scorned glares at me for causing your absence. Your beauty is a thing of legend, and the power of your spirit shines through, only strengthening your enchanting charm._

_Please join me for dinner in the gardens this Sunday, after mass. The Chef informed me that steak and cheesed bread is your favourite. I find myself is drawn to you, and wishing to know you better- or know you at all. You are honest, unassuming and kind hearted, even as my tongue is cut and swollen._

_The very best of wishes,_

_Henry Tudor, VIII_

Sam gaped. This letter was for all intents and purposes a love letter. From the king of England, to his brother. "Dean," he called, "This is from the king!" he said, "And you have not even read them! Or replied!" He yelled in frustration. He counted the letters and found one for every day of the week- except the three from his first to the day of the dinner.

Dean just sighed and rest his head on his knee. His brother, his supposed-to-be-innocent little brother, was so concerned with social standing it was almost ridiculous. In many ways he was innocent. He was jaded because he had seen more than most, but he was innocent in the sense of that he was naive of how cruel the world could truly be. He seemed to think it could not happen to him. Dean thought that perhaps that was his fault, as he had been the one to shelter him so.

"Because he is a selfish, arrogant inconsiderate brute who - oh my god -" he retched.

With a sigh Sam sat down at his desk and started writing a responding letter to the king.

~*~ 


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8  
>AN; Mr Berwin I actually got from the lawfirm I worked at this summer, whose founder was names Berwin. It's just around the corner from the Tower, by London bridge. Anyways, on with the story!

Henry opened the letter in a hurry and started reading, but was immediately disappointed by the formal address.

_To his Royal Highness, King Henry VIII,_

_I am writing on the behalf on my elder brother, Dean Castiel Winchester, to inform you that my brother has fallen ill. I am not aware of what dispute there is between you, nor shall I inquire, but your letters and gifts, while generous are a source of distress for Dean. While I have encouraged him to firstly read, and secondly respond to your letters, I am now politely requesting that you desist your well intended communications until my brother finds himself more able to deal with them._

_Thank you,_

_Samuel John Winchester_

"Gah -" He yelled and threw the letter on his desk. He raked his finger through his hair in frustration. He had done everything he could think of, but nothing had gained him any progress, or even any response. Now Dean was ill and the knowledge festered in his soul. He knew these feeling and urges to please were not natural, but it was like his heart had been pierced by the arrow of cupid himself. And he was bleeding.

He had sent letters of forgiveness. Letters of reconciliation. Letters of friendship and letters of infatuation and love.

He had set gifts of expense, of beauty and gifts of poetry and love. Gifts of usefulness, knowledge and academia. He'd sent ay thoughtful token of affection he could think of.

The problem, he believed, was that he did not know much about Dean. All he knew was that Dean loved hunting and was deeply committed to his family. Henry blinked. His brother. It was sly and underhanded, but perhaps by not only showing that he cares for Dean's wellbeing, but also that of his family... yes. That could work. It would do nothing to inspire the affection Henry had come to crave, but it would gain him some sort of acknowledgement...

~*~...

By that afternoon, the king knew everything there was to know about one Samuel Winchester and his well, not employer, as he did not pay him a penny, but mentor, Mr. Michael Berwin who was now standing in front of him. "What can you tell me about Sam Winchester?" he asked.

"Well, he is an extraordinarily brilliant and hardworking young man," Mr. Berwin said. He looked puzzled, obviously wondering what this was about. "I took him in as a favour owed to his brother, Dean. Initially I thought it would be bothersome to have a youth running around my offices, but he has proved very useful and quick in both mind and feet, no doubt a result of his brother's care and nurturing of the boys education."

"Do you think he would become a good lawyer?"

Mr. Berwin looked slightly surprised, "There is no doubt in my mind. Young Sam is a born lawyer. He sucks up knowledge like cotton does water and is extremely hard working. His written language, both English, Latin and French is flawless. He told me he was taught by his brother, who in turn has been taught by their uncle, a Mr. Robert Singer, whom I know to be a reputable linguist and scholar of religious studies and folk lore, although, his love for horses won out in the end."

Henry nodded, "I know Dean, he was my best hunter. I admit that I am doing this to regain a good friends favour, but also, that all I can do is give keys, it would be up to Sam himself to unlock, open and walk through them. Would you be willing to support an application to the University of Cambridge? I will offer a scholarship if he is accepted, and for that he will need a glowing recommendation, and a few weeks off to be here at the castle with my own lawyers, so that I- or my lawyer as it were, can write one as well. Of course, as a reward -"

"I cannot accept any reward for such a thing, your majesty, young Samuel has a bright future,and it would seem I only wrote his reference for ulterior motives..."

"You will be rewarded for your excellent skill in spotting and cultivating talent," Henry continued from where he had been interrupted, "In the discreet form of having well paying clients sent your way. Are we in agreement? I must remind you, we are only giving Sam the opportunity many less deserving, but wealthier young men have been served on silver platters."

Mr. Berwin nodded. "I will write the letter and deliver it myself to you within the week."

Henry smiled, "Very well, it was a pleasure doing business with you," he said and stood up, shaking the lawyers hand.

~*~...

It was the next morning when Bobby opened the door to reveal the Royal Surgeon that he knew Dean had gotten himself in a serious spot of trouble. "Hello, I am Dr. Quilling, the Royal surgeon. I am here on the king's orders to see to one Dean Winchester. Bobby just shook his head and saw the doctor upstairs.

The doctor, like Sam, raised a brow at the number of letters and unopened gift boxes there was in the room. "Dean is not fond of gifts," Bobby said, seeing the doctor look around the room.

"I see..."

Dean himself was curled up in a heap on his bed, looking rather green around the gills, so to speak. The doctor took a deep breath and hoped it was not contagious.

Over an hour later the doctor was mystified. All he could find wrong with the boy was a sore and slightly swollen stomach, which was probably a result of all the vomiting. He gave him some herbs to drink which would calm his stomach, but otherwise, he was at a loss.

~*~...


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

"Oh my god!" Dean heard Sam yell from the sitting room. A second later, his little brother came storming into his room and barrelled into him in a bone crushing hug. The Royal surgeon had confined him to bed-rest for the past two weeks, and he was going stir crazy.

"Woha Sammy - I don't really know what you're thanking me for..."

"For everything," Sam mumbled.

"Uh?"

"For raising me, supporting my dreams -" Sam looked up with tears in his eyes, "For teaching me to read and write, for the internship at Mr. Berwin's and just being the best big brother anyone could ever wish for!"

Dean though Samy looked each and every one of his seventeen and six months that moment. He was tall for his age, but now he looked so young. "Care to tell me what brought this on?"

"It's a letter from the University of Cambridge," he said, "It says that while I did not personally submit an application, a 'glowing' letter of recommendation was given for me and they have decided to grant me a formal interview!"

Dean's eyes widened. "That's amazing," he said, "When is it?"

"In two weeks," Sam replied. "Though, it also says it is awaiting another reference from my summer internship- I don't have a summer internship."

"Keep reading -" Dean hurried him.

"Oh my god - it's at the Royal Court! Mr. Berwin arranged for me to sit in on actual court cases and I get to spend two weeks with the king's own lawyers!"

Dean's smile faltered for a brief second, but he plastered it back on, "I am so proud of you Sammy," he said and hugged his baby brother.

"I haven't gotten in, Dean," Sam said, his voice muffled by the hug, "It's only an interview."

"It doesn't matter," Dean replied, "You've worked so hard and done so well that Mr. Berwin thought you deserved this chance, and the University agrees. No matter how the interview goes, know you have my full support and that letter will be framed and put up on the wall," he spoke into Sam's hair. "In fact, these news made me feel much better." Because he had a bone to pick with one self important pompous asshatted king of England.

~*~...

Actually standing outside the king's office, Dean felt much less energised by his anger than he had when he left. He was fully aware of that despite his bath, he looked half dead. His hair was longer than what he considered acceptable and the ticked the base of his neck.

Taking a deep breath he knocked on the door. It was immediately briskly opened by a man dressed in full red, "Cardinal," Dean greeted.

"Who are you, and what do you want?"

"Dean Winchester," Dean replied, "I'm here to speak with the king."

The Cardinal looked him up and down, "Do you have an appointment?"

Dean raised a brow, "No -"

"Let him in Tomas," he heard the smooth baritone of the king. "We can continue our conversation later."

"Over dinner, sire?"

"I'll be otherwise engaged, supper would be suitable," Henry replied and came to the door, "Dean, please to come in."

Dean stepped past the Cardinal, feeling only just slightly underdressed and into the king's office.

Cardinal Wosley narrowed his gaze. Perhaps this was one of those occasions where he should practice his eavesdropping skills.

~*~...

"How can I help, you, Dean?" Henry asked as he closed the door.

"How about you tell me what you're up to by offering Sammy a scholarship to university." Dean said darkly.

"Please sit down," Henry said, "I'd say you looked well, but you seem to have lost much weight." Dean glowered at him, "I offered your brother the scholarship to get your attention," he stated plainly.

"Do you actually intent on giving it to him?"

"Of course," Henry said, "Dean, I only set things in motion. I spoke with Mr. Berwin, who assured me that Samuel was not only capable, but destined to be a lawyer. That he is hardworking, intelligent and willing to do whatever it takes to achieve his goals. Mr. Berwin gave him a reference, based on that I gave him two weeks on the coattails of my lawyers. Based on his reference and practical experience, the university decided to grant him an interview. He would not have got that interview of not as capable as he is. And from the moment on it's all on him."

"And the 'scholarship?" Dean asked, his mouth set in a thin line.

"Is conditional on him achieving at least a 2.i in his first year, and final grade being a 1st degree honours. It is very hard," the king said, "I won't hide that. But if he fails, he will receive references that will no doubt assist him greatly in entering another school."

"And what do you want for this?" Dean asked, not fooled by the king's friendly smile. And right he was, as the 'friendly smile' spread into a predatory grin.

"Dinner," the king said.

"Excuse me?" Dean blinked.

"I want dinner," Henry repeated. "Every evening, just you and me." He sat back and folded his hands over his - Dean cringed - too perfectly sculpted abs. It should be illegal for a thirty-something year old man to be so fit. "Well, principally, just you and I. I will want to meet your brother -and your uncle. I've been told he was an outstanding academic before retiring to breed horses, which by your mare, I can see he is also exceptionally good at." Henry said casually, "And your father, of course, when he returns from his work abroad."

Dean gritted his teeth, the muscles in his jaw flexing as he tried to push down the nausea rising form his rebellious stomach. "And if I refuse?"

The king paused. He had not really considered that Dean would refuse after, well, everything. His father's theory about cause and effect was definitely flawed, he decided. Eventually he did a very un-kinglike thing; he shrugged. He crossed his arms over his chest, more defensively that the sprawled position he'd held a moment before. "Nothing... I guess." he said quietly. He had an odd feeling in his stomach. It felt sour and it made him want to stab something. Was he now feeling that awful feeling of rejection he'd read and heard so much of? The one, as king, he had not dealt with all that much.

"What do you mean 'nothing'?"Dean asked, "Nothing as in 'leave me alone' or nothing as in 'make my life hell'?" The king seemed to deflate under his gaze, pierced by his words.

"The former," Henry replied. "You obviously want nothing to do with me..."

"Can you really blame me?" Dean yelled.

"No," the king said, "I-"

"You forced yourself on me," Dean whispered, as if saying it louder would make it more real. He cleared his throat, "And then you kissed me -"

"And I'm sorry," Henry said and got up and walked around his desk. With a heavy sigh he sat down on it, facing Dean. He bit his lip. Swallowed. Sucked his cheeks in, then he took a deep breath... and got on his knees.

Dean's pulled in a shaky breath as he saw the king of England get on his knees in front of him, brown eyes boring into him.

"You don't have to forgive me. I have no right to ask for it," he said softly, "But I beg of you, not as Henry VIII, king of England, but Henry, the man who can't handle a bow to save his life, and is deeply sorry for the hurt I've caused you, to accept, if you can find it in your heart, my most sincere apologies."

Dean was shaking. Even with the king on his knees, the older man made him feel so small. As the seconds passed, the king looked away, but did not move. "I..." he king looked back up at him, he king's eyes were brimming with unshed tears. "I accept..." he said, his voice shaking.

~*~


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

Henry was silently cursing himself as he was told that the cook - that is, the stand-in cook, as the proper one was sick, had done something to the food that had made it inedible. This would be his tenth dinner with Dean, and the hunter was slowly warming up to him. It had taken a while, but they were speaking without barriers. Dean seemed unable to decide if he should lean into, or flinch away from his touch, whenever they came in contact.

But their dinners were the only thing Henry had, right now, and he was not certain that Dean would stay... He could serve him something else, but due to whatever was making him ill, he was incredibly particular. The young hunter apologies tirelessly for his fuzzy stomach, but the king would not have it. His moth had told him that to win a woman, you have to show her you can provide for her, keep her a kept woman. To win a man, you have to show him you can provide for him; feed him. His mother had probably meant politically, but surely it could be applied.

"Hi..."

Henry turned towards the sound of that honey smooth voice. Dean stood there in the sunlight in a tanned shirt and trousers. The colours complimented his golden hair and sun-kissed skin , making all of him shine. It made him stop in his tracks.

"Did I come at a bad time?" Dean asked, shifting under the kings heavy look.

"No-" Henry stopped his own shout "I mean, no, you haven't," he said and went to greet him with a hung. He kept it light, and brief, not wanting to overstep the boundaries he'd worked patiently and tirelessly on pushing.

"You seemed surprised," Dean said as they parted. It never failed to surprise him when the king initiated such an intimate contact- more than a casual touch.

"No, I..." Henry swallowed, "I was merely... stunned by..." he paused, " your beauty which shines especially strongly today " he said, his voice soft, captivated by the green eyes of the blond boy in his arms.

Dean stared at him, his lips parted in surprise and his cheeks flushed at the king's words.

The king seemed to return to reality, "I was told something... other the other went wrong with the food... so our dinner will be delayed."

"Why don't we just head down there," Dean asked, still sounding a touch breathless.

Henry frowned; he had never been to the kitchens. "Very well..." he replied hesitantly. "What do you suggest we do there?"

"Just say hello," said Dean, "I haven't seen Martin in a while."

"Would that be the Chef?" Henry wondered.

"Yup," Dean said, rolling back and forth on his heels..

"He's home, ill," Henry said, "Someone else is making the food."

"Let's go say hello anyhow," Dean decided, "We'll get our food quicker," he gave a compelling smile. Not to mention the less formal environment would put him more at ease.

"As you wish," Henry said "Please do show the way," he said and made a deep, theatrical bow.

Dean laughed and did indeed show the way.

Everything stopped as the king entered the kitchen. Most of the people there never ventured out in the parts of the castle that was reserved for the administration of the country. The king glanced around in his usual kingly fashion. Dean sighed as the king's facade slammed back up faster than a nun's thighs shut. Henry made a quick motion with his hand, and everyone snapped back to work.

"Dean!"

Dean was jumped by a flurry of dark hair and gold skin. "Elena," he laughed, "Good to see you."

"Where have you bee?" She asked excitedly, and kissed both his cheeks, "Martin will be delighted," she gushed.

"I heard he was ill...?"

"Not ill," Elena said, "Injured," she said, "He is still here bossing us all around. Though Daniel has been given some grief for ruining the kings dinner. I'm sure his majesty will be rightly furious at being made to wait hungry"

"I'm sure I can survive a while longer," Henry said with a quirked smile.

Elena looked over Dean's shoulder and gasped. "Your Majesty," she bowed, "I'm sorry -" Dean stepped back, looking a bit awkward.

The king noticed Dean's sudden withdrawal from the conversation and immediately put a smile on his face, "No need," he said, "I promise I'm much easier to deal with than that of my reputation." He sat down on a stool and swayed his legs much like a child would, appearing relaxed and at ease. It seemed to be the right move as the staff around him moved about their tasks more fluently.

"Dean-" a booming voice sounded through the kitchen, "How are things and how have you been?" Dean got pulled into a one-armed hug- the other in a sling, by a bear of a man. "Hm," The Chef said and he inspected the blond, "I cannot quite decide if you have lost weight, gained some, if you are sick or glowing with health," he said, then he frowned, "You should take better care of yourself boy. Worry less about that sasquatch of a brother of yours."

"I do eat well," Dean protested, "I have dinner with the king twice a week-"

"I can only vouch for the food he actualy eats at my table," Henry piped up, "No more and no less. You have five other dinners I am certain you do not eat quite as well."

Dean flushed and shuffled his feet, "I live in a house of four men, none of who are inclined to cook," he said, "Of course I wont eat quite as well-"

"You majesty," Martin nodded to the king, "Due to some lad's incompetence your dinner will be delayed. If you do not mind, I will give young Dean a cookery lesson while we're at it."

Henry smiled mischevisouly and shrugged, "Do as you please with him."

Dean scowled, "Martin, I think Henry would like a cookery lesson as well. Lord knows he would starve without you."

~*~...

As it turned out, Dean, who was used to handling knives and doing detailed work, fared rather well. Surprisingly, as did the king. That is, they fared well apart. Together, they served as a hopeless distraction.

Henry revelled in Dean's relaxed and joyous demeanour as he were in familiar surrounding. While he preferred to do his, eh, seduction, at the lack of a better word, in private, he worked well with what he got. He knew he was being painfully obvious to his staff, and he risked some serious humiliation if Dean rejected him, but it seemed to be successful so far.

Dean's cheeks were a lovely pink as he stood next to the king, trying very hard to ignore the radiating heat penetrating though his clothes as their shoulder's brushed. He felt much more secure in himself as they were now surrounded by Dean's freinds and previous co-workers rather than soldiers, servants and politicians. The king has seemed to notice his lack of apprehension as well as he'd become very flirtasious. He hoped he had not noticed he way his body reacted to his light, too lingering to be causal touches. But he probably had.

"Do you think the king is aware of how obvious he is being?" Elena asked quietly.

"Do you think Dean is aware of how obvious he is being?" Martin grumbled back. "This is not an idea which will have fortunate repercussions," he said, "Not much to do about the king, but we can speak some sense into the boy," he said and headed over. "Not bad," he said as he looked things over, "Perhaps you shold consider becoming a cook, if kingship should ever bore you, your majesty."

Henry snorted, "I'm afraid your compliment is undeserved," he said, "I have been much too absent minded..." Dean's blush flared up again,

"The servants will prepare the food, now you go out and enjoy the sun," he said.

Dean nodded and led the king out towards the lawn. As they passed through the door, a heavy and warm hand rested at the small of his back. Dean paused, looking at the king, who face was barely an inch from him. Brown eyes flickered between the wide green orbs and those plush pink lips. Dean could not tear his eyes from Henry as they stood in the doorway. The king's body was radiating heat, and Dean could not help but seek the warmth. He could even feel his shaky breath on his face.

"Your majesty -" Elena's voice made them spring apart. "Dean, your dinner is ready. Where would you like to dine?"

"On the lawn," the king said, his voice roug. He cleared his throat, "On the lawn will be fine, thank you." He could feel the heat rising in his face and was grateful when Dean dissappeared out the door, allowing him to do the same.

~*~...

"I cannot believe I just cooked the first meal of my life," Henry said, "It was both easier and harder than I thought it could be."

"What do you mean?" Dean asked, not quite understanding what he meant.

"Well, it was easier to make than I though, but it was harder to make perfectly than I thought as well."

"Why don't you invite your brother and uncle for dinner after mass on Sunday," Henry suggested. He paused and thought for a moment, "And your father, if he has returned."

"He is due to be back this evening," Dean said thoughtfully, "I will pass on your invite. I'm sure Sammy will be delighted to meet the king," he said with a smile.

"And Dean," The king winked, "Make sure to invite them to dinner with Henry, not the king. I want to make a good impression."

Dean just grinned.

~*~..


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

"We've been invited to dinner on sunday," Dean said.

John pushed a few of Bobby's books aside and sat down. "You should go then," he said, "These parts have been quiet for a while."

Dean smiled, "I said 'we' father, you, me, Sammy and Bobby; all of us."

John sighed, "I've only just come back from 'Italy' mayy I have a faw days rest before being thrown into the social scene?"

Dean shook his head, "No. You've been away for a long time, and a lot has happened," he said, "Sammy got accepter into university, with a scholarship," John tensed, "I quit my job at the castle and I'mnot working here with bobby. And Henry invited us for dinner after mass."

"So Sam is leaving, you dropped a well paying job and this 'Henry'... what's up with him?"

"He's courting Dean," Sam said from the doorway, "Not in so many words, but judging by the letters, the doctor, the gifts, the dinners... I'd say he's courting Dean," He said with a typical little brother grin on his face.

"He's not 'courting' me," Dean said flustered. John chuckled at the expression on the face of his eldest. "And dad, Sam going to university would allow him to become a real lawyer. Even if he does not hunt, he would have access to libraries and contacts that we could only dream of."

"Bobby has access-"

"I've only got access to the general stuff, not the legal documents, law codes and so on," Bobby grumbled from his desk, "Sam has worked hard for this opportunity, and so has Dean. And keep in mind, just because he's going to schoo doesn't mean he's giving up on hunting. Someone has to take over this desk at some point. My eyes are getting old."

Sam was about to say that he was sure as hell giving up hunting, but the look Dean gave him shut him up. As smart as he was, sometimes he was just dense. Dean was just saying what their father needed to hear for Sam to be allowed to do as he so desperately wished.

"Is that right, Sammy?"

"Yes sir," Sam said with a nod.

John nodded, "It seems this part of London is rather silent, these days," he said again, "It seems the supernatural population has caught on to the Singers and Winchesters are living here again," he mused, "But this dinner, and tell me about this suitor of yours. Marriage in sight?" He smirked.

Dean groaned, "Firstly, he's not courting me!-"

Sam laughed and sat down, "'Henry' would be the king," Sam said. John's eyebrown rose. "Who at some point for whatever reason invited Dean to join him and his company for a hunt, having heard his reputation as the best hunter in his court and has been taken with his 'golden locks', 'glowing skin' and 'magnetic eyes' -"

"He did not say that!" Dean yelled.

Sam laughed, "If you actually ever even bothered to read his letters, you would know, would you not? So for some reason Dean quit his job, and next this we know, the house is being flooded with letters and gifts- and Dean returned tham all, only for the king to return them to him. Then Dean fell ill, he sent his own personal doctor - several times. I'm not quite sure how he is involved with my scholarship, but he is," Sam said, convinced, "And they've been having dinner twice a week ever since."

"Last week," Dean bit through gritted teeth.

John just sat there with an expression frozen in surprise at what his sons were saying. Could his world get any stranger? The King of England was sniffing about his eldest sons skirts- or breeches as it were. What was next?

~*~

* * *

><p>When they arrived after mass on Saunday it was side by side on each their magnificent horse. Chevy, John's stallion, was not quite as fine boned as Impala, but bigger. Bobby's mare was a black English pureblood- Impalas mother, and Sam had a young red horse that was skipping with exsess energy. The stable boys took care of the horses, "We'll se them on the eastern field, Mr. Winchester. Will you be leaving at your usual hour?"<p>

John was about to reply, but Dean spoke up, "Yes, Mike, and as always, call me Dean."

The young stable boy grinned, "Yes sir, Mr. Dean."

Dean just rolled his eyes and led his family to the room they were dining in. When they arrived, it was to see Henry on his knees, talking to a dark haired little girl. Something he said made the girl squeal joyously and leap into his arms. The king hugged her tightly and kissed her brow before he sent the skipping girl off with her caretaker.

"You daughter?" Dean asked.

The king turned, seemingly slightly surprised at being alone, "You're early," He said. Then he smiled. That Dean arrived early surely had to mean he was eager to see him.

Dean blushed, "Yeah..." he said and shuffled his feet. While his father looked at him like he had never seen him before, and Bobby rolled his eyes and Sam restrained a chuckle, Henry merely thought he was adorable.

Henry swept the hunter into a warm embrace, which Dean, to his pleasant surprise, returned.

John noticed that the hug lasted longer than that of a simple greeting- and then some, but he held his tongue. He had just killled a male siren who fed by having sex with young boys in the vatican city. Seeing the king sweet on his son harldy rattled him. He was certain, that even with his physically advantiage, the king would not- or could not for his son to do anything he did not please. Judging by the king's flushed face as they parted, this was as far as bodily contact be counted, that they had gone. Courting indeed.

"Yes, that was my daughter Mary," he said. "I'm sorry if I made to sound I was unhappy by your early arriaval. I was merely surprised as Dean is usually -"

"Late?" John asked.

Henry smiled, "Fashionably," he added.

"John Winchester."

"Henry Tudor," Henry replied as they shook hands. He also greeted Sam and Bobby.

The food came as soon as they sat down. Henry had actually talked to Martin himself and picked out, and tasted the various things he wanted on the table. While he had kept his hands well away from the actual cooking, he had a feeling his Chef was a tad amused by his need to please and impress Dean and his family. Henry rarely found it hard to impress people, but the Winchesters, if Dean was anything to go by, were better impressed a strong charchter than fancy foods and shiny jewells. He hoped the rest were simlilarly inclined.

"Dean tells me you have been travelling, John," Henry said, "And that you'r a hunter like himself. It makes me curious about what you hunt to warrant such extensive travels," he said with ahumorus glint in his eyes.

John grinned as well, "My prey of choice varies greatly, so I go where I'm needed."

"And where were you last needed, if I may ask, of course."

John paused, and wondered if it would be wise to let the king know of his services. The king of France he knew well; he'd had a vampire problem a few years in teh past. "The Vatican was my destination. A priest who was up to some ungodly activities."

The king paused mid-chew. That he had not expected.

"Of course, my prey is not human," John specified, "But no man who does such things can be deemed human."

"You're... 'that' kind of hunter..." Henry said slowly.

"Only when nessesary."

"And nessessary would be?"

"A man who makes it his nightly activity- and sometimes not nightly- to violate young boys, as young as your daughter," he looked the king dead in the eye, "and as old as my son, but impossible to catch. I catch them, and I let them meet their maker."

Henry swallowed, feeling like his throat suddenly was as dry as a desert. Did he know? "And justly so," he said, "I sleep easier at night knowing those men do not get away, when they in other times would." He raised his glass, "To justice."

Dean looked warily between Henry and his father. What just happened? "To justice," he echoed and sipped his glass.

~*~


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12

They had dessert in the garden; fresh fruit and apple pie. Pie was something the king had not tasted before - his parents had not favoured pastries much, but he found it heavenly. Martin had let him know that it was indeed Dean's favourite pastry. One he could barely live without.

Henry had been taken to the side by the Cardinal to talk about something when John came over. The Cardinal left, leaving the king with this man who was as tall as himself, but even broader, and he had a feeling it was not good cooking that gave him that appearance. his green eyes pierced straight through the king, pinning him. "I might have been away from the country from a while, and away from these youthful pass-times for a good twenty years, but king or no, Dean is my first born, and as a father yourself I pray you understand..." His voice was deep and stern.

"Your warning was loud and clear at dinner," Henry said, "I wish your son no ill will, only the best, in fact. I'd make a liar out of myself if I said I have ever pursued any male before," he looked over John's shoulder at Dean, "Dean is one of a kind. He is so beautiful-"

John really hope the king was not after Dean for his pretty mouth. He'd always thought Dean looked too much like his mother to truly ever be safe, in that regard. Letting him take work as a child had been a non-issue.

"-but what truly caught me was his spirit. So free, and outspoken. He never hesitates to call me a fool if he thinks so... and he has a way of making me see the beauty and pleasure in simple things." He looked back at John, "He is the highlight of my week, Mr. Winchester." He took a breath to steady his voice, "If my attentions are unwanted, I will of course cease my courtship-"

John snorted at the king's words, "If that were true you would have stopped after the fifth gift- if not sooner." Henry flushed. "But I admire your persistence. Mary, Dean's mother wanted nothing more than see me dead, but I won her over eventually," He said with a small smile. "Dean guards his heart well, but I saw how much he looked forward to seeing you, and how much he enjoys your company. Dean has never been a carefree child. After his mother died he literally took over her role to his brother. He was only four at the time..." He looked at Henry, "Now that I know your intentions are pure- as pure as they can be in this matter, I can only caution you; one day you will marry for an heir, and that day you will break his heart. Be kind; he is worth more than being your something on the side; he deserves more. You are to make sure he has a life to return to after you."

Henry stood frozen. He had never even spared a though beyond his desire for the blond boy. Or what his inevitable marriage would mean if he succeeded in his pursuit. "Thank you," he said, "-for reminding me of my duties. I will make sure that Dean has everything he needs and everything he may wish for. Anything I can provide, he will have: I will never leave him on bare ground."

"And by that I also mean his reputation; Dean is young still, but what woman would marry a man who famously favours another mans company?"

"Duly noted," Henry said. "If I may speak with Dean later?"

"Of course." John agreed.

* * *

><p>As everyone made to leave later that evening, Henry gently caught Deans hand, "Dean, may I keep you a little while?"<p>

Dean nodded, "Ride ahead, father, I'll be home soon." His father gave a short nod before Chevy reared slightly on his hind legs, kicking off in an instant canter.

"Your horses truly are magnificent," Henry said.

"My answer to breeding Impala still stands," Dean replied with a crooked grin.

Henry let out a brief, nervous laugh, "I did not ask you to stay to talk of horses," he said and took a deep breath, steadying his voice. "Dean, I know I can never take back what I did, but I want you to know that I've come to care for you greatly- as you would know if you ever read my letters-" he added with a small smile. Dean blushed faintly. "I crave your company, your scent and your witty banter. I crave your smile and your laugh..." he trailed off, not knowing quite how to continue. "But I know you have not always enjoyed- and at times loathed mine... and I ... I suppose what I want to say is... if you do not wish to dine with me, you are free to do as you please..." he let out a shuddering breath, "And if you wish, I will leave you be in other matters as well." God, it made his heart hurt even to say those words.

"But..." Dean whispered.

"Of course it will not affect your brother's scholarship-" Henry rambled.

"But what if I don't want you to leave me be?" Dean asked quietly, deathly afraid of assuming anything.

Henry smiled, "Then I will go to the end of the earth for you, fight God for you and make oceans part for you."

"But..." Dean licked his lips uncertainly, "Will you love me?" While he was not certain about what he felt for the king, he could not deny the flutters in his belly, or the heat in his cheeks.

Henry pulled Dean close, wrapping his arms around his waist, "I will love you more than any other, until the day I die and thereafter." He rubbed a thumb across Dean's cheek. Dean leaned into the warm touch. "May I?" the king whispered.

"Yes," Dean breathed against his mouth.

The king pressed a gentle and warm kiss against Deans soft lips. The blonde gasped at the touch and Henry accepted the invite, deepening the kiss, but was no less gentle.

* * *

><p>"Katherine," he greeted softly as he entered his wife's chambers, "May we speak in private?" he asked, gesturing to the ladies in waiting.<p>

The queen nodded and dismissed her handmaid. She sat down and studied her husband, "If this is about -"

"It's not," Henry ask, not looking at her. "I have not looked forward to this conversation, and I must admit I am ill prepared."

"Mary -"

"The negotiations to her marriage is going smoothly," Henry cut her off.

"Then what is it?" She asked, "Do you wish to try again?" He shook his head. "For God's sake, speak Henry!" she sighed loudly.

"I... I want a divorce," he said quietly.

Katherine could not say a word. "You wish to divorce me? Henry, I have proven I am capable of carrying -"

"It's not about that," Henry said, "I am in love... more deeply, and madly than I could ever have imagined," he sat down on her bed. "And I do not believe it is fair to either of you to continue this way."

Katherine looked like she was about to cry. "So you have taken another mistress," she stated.

Henry sighed, "No I have not," he said. "I have honoured our vows, and the promise I made to you."

"You have not honoured our vows-" she spat, her every feature radiating with hurt. "And what of Mary?"

"I know I have not honoured our vows in the past," Henry admitted. There was no point in denying it. "And Mary will not be declared illegitimate. She is my firstborn, and will have the titles she thus deserves."

Katherine nodded, relieved on behalf of her daughter, "And what of me? The disgraces queen?"

"You will not be disgraced, my sweet Katherine," Henry stood up. "I wish to present the divorce to the pope, preferably with you by my side, as a friendly parting, as I hope it will be. As a result of different priorities and interests. That we have what we wished from this marriage, and that in honour of our vows, we now wish to go each our separate ways..." Henry trailed off, looking at his wife's tear stained face. "I know It is too much to ask for, Katherine, but I do believe it is the best way. This way, it would be quick. If we fought, it could take years and build needless animosity that I do not wish for," he dried her tears. "I will of course provide for you as a queen should be, and I will support any marriage you should wish. You will have an estate of your choosing here in England, which will remain yours, no matter your marital status, so you can see Mary whenever you please. She can also travel with you, if you please. I have no wish to separate you. I merely wish to see her as well. I think England would be the safest place for her. We can of course discuss that matter more closely later..." he said, realising he was rambling.

"I thought you would leave me on bare ground..." Katherine admitted. "But you surprise me, husband."

"I have not been overly friendly, in the past, Katherine, but -"

"Your heart has been softened?" She asked. "Who is she? Who is replacing me?" Henry had the good grace to blush fiercely, making the queen frown; "You truly are in love," she said.

"I am," Henry replied. This was truly the first time they had ever spoken in such confidence. Perhaps if they had done so sooner, their marriage might have been better for it. "It is... not a woman," he said quietly and looked away.

Katherine just stared at him, "You... have fallen for... a man?" she asked, shocked.

Henry nodded, "And fallen hard I have."

"Brandon?"

Henry laughed, "Oh dear lord no, though I must say they do not get along very well."

Katherine smiled weakly, "I like him already," she joked, trying to gather herself. "What is his name?"

"Dean Winchester," Henry said.

"How did you come to know him?"

"He was a hunter..."

"So this has gone on for a while?"

"Far from it," Henry said, "He wanted nothing to do with me. I sent invitations to dinners, hunt - letters and gifts, he turned them all down... I even gave his brother a scholarship to university just to get his attention," he admitted with no little amount of embarrassment. "He agreed to have dinners with me, here in court- but one of them we ended up cooking ourselves."

"What?" Katherine questioned.

"The cook had broken his arm, and the other one burnt our food, so Dean decided to go down there and say hello, and we ended up both cooking our own dinner under the careful instruction of the Royal Chef."

Had the circumstances been any different, Katherine would have laughed, as it were, she only stared at her husband in disbelief.

"I invited his family - father, brother and uncle, and his father gave me... a reluctant blessing- and a promise of an early meeting with the maker should I cause his eldest any heartache- or aches of a different kind."

Katherine just stared at the man who sat on her bed, fiddling with his own hands. A burning jealousy filled her. This boy had done for her husband what she had tried to do for years. She would agree to a friendly divorce, if only to save her honour. But this Dean she wanted to meat.

* * *

><p>AN this scene felt so corny, but I'm saving the big drama for later. Kath will play her role later on.


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13

The days since their first kiss had flown by, and the rumours about the king having a new lover flew around court. Dean was on a cloud of happiness. He did his morning chores at the stables, then he took the Impala and went to the king's palace

John happily took over Dean's duties, as the joy his son was shining with was something he had longer to see ever since his wife died. Since she was killed. He just hoped the king had taken his words to heart.

But Dean was so immersed in his own happiness, that his friends harsh words caugth him voilently.

"He is the king, famous for his womanizing wasy- would it be so much of a strech that he merely wished for someone more challenging?" Elena whispered harsly."You're only here in the afternoon; Nights and morning the king is free to do as he pleases. I love you dearly, you are a good friend, Dean, so please hear my plea for your wellbeing; do not let the king have you- if he has not already," she took his hand within her own.

Dean looked like he was about to shout in anger; or cry. He was not certain. He had struggled with his own doubt, but having them thrown in his face by a friend was painful.

"Martin agrees," Elena pressed, "He saw himself how the king flirts and plays with you, like a finely tuned violin he makes you sing..."

Dean yanked his hand out of hers and hissed, "The only one who hurts me, is you with your words." With those words he turned and ran all the way to where he knew the king would be; the squash courts.

.

* * *

><p>His heart instantly lifted as his eyes caught sight of the dark haired king. But what he saw next nearly made his frayed nerves tear. Henry and Charles were surrounded by well dressed rich women- girls, and they seemd both to be enjoying their company immersely. Without a word he turned, his heart aching.<p>

He had barely made it halfway down the stair before he heard Brandon calling his name. "What?"

Chalred paused at Dean's foul mood. As he looked closer, what to most seemed an expressionless mask, was one of... he was not quite sure, but a negative emotion at best. "The king asks if you would like to join him for a bath- if not, he asks you keep him company with with some light food."

"I..., I can't-"

Charles laughed bitterly, "I don't understnad you, you know. You are blessed with the prettiest face in the kingdom, and what seems to be the undying devotion of the king- although I know he has not reaped the rewards of his efforts, or even sought relief with one of many willing girls in this blessed palace," he paused, "He confessed to me that he loves you more dearly than he does his kingdom... that you hold his heart so compltely, he would willingly, and happily forsake his wife, his mistresses and the Holy roman Catholic Church for your favour...and you throw it in his face."

"I..." Dean stood speechless, overwhelmed.

"You're what?" Brandon whispered harshly, praying no one would overhear them, "playing coy? His majesty is my closest friend since childhood and you're playing squash with his heart-"

"I'm not!" Dean protested, "I... I'm scared." Though he was not sure if admitting that to a man who already thought him lesser than a man to begin with was a good idea.

The boy's soft spoken confession made Charles' anger deflate with such rapidness it made him feel purposelss. "Of what?" he asked cluelessly.

Dean pulled in on himself, "That he'll break my heart," he whispered, revealing one of his most inner fears, "-like he has so many others..."

Realisation dawned on Charled as he watched the young hunter infront of him. Of course. How had he been so thoughtless. The king was well known for showering his conquests with gifts and attentions, but once he caught his prey, he quickly lost interest. "He has never hidden to me that the women he has bedded has been nothing but passtimes; he makes note of their beauty, indeed, but you, he praises yor skill and determination; he craves your company..."

"And that frightens me even more," Dean muttered.

Catching the double-entre Dean suggested so plainly made Charles want to knock both himself and the king upside their heads. Of course. Charles felt horrible. It had slipped his mind what the king had drunkenly confessed. The king has set his eyes upon a young boy- a young man, he corrected himself, who, asides form one disastrous event, would naturally be clueless to such things. And what little he knew spoke nothing of the pleasures such a union could give.

He was certain that admitting that he knew, would do no good. "I do have one such experience myself," he admitted, "-and I swear to you, was I in anyway inclined to favour men, I would spend any and every night with Compton's cock up my arse, because as... vulnerable and broken I felt at allowing any man, even my best friend, do that to me, I've never felt... so close to God... and I'm certain the king will take the upmost care for you."

Brandon's words left Dean both reassured, confused, and blushing fiercely.

~*~

* * *

><p>Despite what people thought, there was not a dungeon in the castle. The cellar had been coverted into saunas and bathingrooms, greek style at the very beginning of Henry's reign, to please Katherine, who was used to such pleasures. Henry himself rarely used them, as swimming or cooking himself in hot water was not his favourite passtime.<p>

"The boy is scared," Charles said as the king undressed.

Henry halted, "Of what?" he scoffed. Asides from the obvious.

Charles leaned against the wall, "He's afraid you'll break his heart, quote- like you have so many others, end quote."

"He said that..?" Henry asked quietly.

"Mhm," Charles nodded, "I assured him that, yes, you've had many female companions, but that you never spoke of any of them like you do of him," then he grinned, "And in not so many words, I do believe he is rahter... anxious about..." he paused "-sex."

"Anxious as in-?"

"He's probably heard nothing but stories of hell-intended alter-boy abusing priests, or criminals- and that disastrous interaction of yours..." Charles shrugged, "I told him of my own experience with Compton..." he forced down a blush.

Henry rubbed the back of his head, not knowing what to say. He'd sure done nothing to dispell that notion. "Will he be joining me?" he asked.

"I wouldn't know," Charles said. "Should I make myself scarse just in case?"

"If you don't mind," Henry said. "Please send all but one of the staff away. And the one to leave after assisting Dean. And of course, lay out clean clothes for us both, and clean towels," he added as he sank into the hot oiled water.

"I'm not your maid, Henry," Charles hummed, with an amused smile.

"But you are my friend," Henry smiled back.

It was nealry quarter of an hour, before Dean stepped out from the chaining rooms, wearing the towelled diaper that was custom. Henry wore one as well - for once. He found them very restricting, but he figured he should not push his luck. "Dean," he smiled.

"Henry," Dean greeted. He'd felt so great this morning, but his run in with Elena, and then Charles, had left him a bit shaky.

"Well come on in," Henry said and swam across, "I'd hat for youto get cold."

Dean snorted. The room was literally steamed up with warm air. He took the king's offered hand and let him catch him- even if it made him feel like a damsel- and lower him into the deliciously hot water. The slick slide of skin against skin made his breath catch. Henry ran a wet hand though his hair, slicking the blonde strands back, before he tipped his chin up. Gently he kissed him and nibbled on his lower lip. Dean mewled into the kiss, slightly intoxicated by the surrounding wamth, both liquid and solids.

Dean smiled up at him as they parted. Henry handed him a glass of spiced wine. Dean sipped it and placed it back on the edge of the pool. With a mischievous smirk, he splashed the king. There was nothing like a playful tumble to lighten his mood.

~*~

A/N I realised I hadn't updated this in a while. I'm a little bit stuck on how to make the timeline work with my story. Im seriously considering pulling some major wormholes here, which i very rarely do. I just makes things messy and hard to follow me thinks... so... d yo guys think it's too soon for sex? I''m not quite sure. But ive run out of pre written chapters now, so im open to suggestions and wishes!


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter 14

"I spoke with Charles a few minutes ago," Henry said as he sat on the underwater step, merged to mid-chest. Dean stiffened in his arms and took a deep drink from the wine, "Be careful, you haven't eaten," the king said warmly.

"So easy for you to say," Dean muttered.

"Indeed, but it is not easy for me to say this; I love you. Never have I said those words to anyone, but my family." Henry nuzzled Dean's neck as he sat between his legs, against his chest.

"Amongst them your wife," Dean said, his fingers playing over the king's arm, The dark dusting of hair covering his lower arms, soaked and slick with the oils in the water.

Henry shook his head, "My marriage with Katherine was never about love; it was a political treaty, one I am trying to break, as I forge an alliance with France through the marriage of our children."

"Okay," Dean said quietly and looked away.

"Dean,"Henry sighed, slightly frustrated. He tried to keep his calm, but it was hard when the one his heart was set on, was set on distrusting him. "The queen knows of you. I have kept all my mistresses from her to the best of my ability, many years ago she made me promise that should my heart truly be taken by another, I should tell her. And I did. You are not a dirty secret- perhaps from the cardinal, but certainly not from my friends and family. If I could, I'd marry you," he said.

Dean just grabbed the mug of wine and poured himself another full goblet. As soon as he drowned it, an annoyed Henry took it from him and placed it on the marble edge of the bath.

"I know you are scared, but I beg of you to believe me that you have nothing to be scared of. I will never break your heart- not if I can help it, and by my soul I swear I will never hurt you again." Henry hesitated. "You said... that what I had taken from you, could never be compensated..." he spoke softly, almost afraid of how Dean would react to his words "And I know that it cannot, but perhaps... if you wish, you could give me the chance to make a better memory for you?"

Dean was quite tipsy, and while he was not drunk, he was just far enough gone to forego his anger. Yes, he would like a better memory. "I think... I think I would like that."

Henry let out a relieved sigh, "Whenever it may please you, I am at your service-"

"Now," Dean whispered. "I'd like... you now."

Henry paused, "Are you certain?"

Dean twisted in Henry arms and looked at him. "You said you won't hurt me. I need proof, and the only way to get proof, is to trust you. I'm trusting you."

Henry felt himself twitch inside his towelled wrap, but tried to contain himself. Ever so gently he pulled Dean up to straddle his lap. The king smiled and leaned in to place the most chaste and soft kiss on Dean's pink lips. "Anything you desire," he said. Dean just kissed him. Henry was surprised when Dean deepened the kiss. His movements were slow, and trying. Henry pulled form the kiss and looked at him quizzically; how many women have you been with?" he asked.

Dean seemed a little put out by the ill timing of the question, but the question itself caught up with him too soon for him to dwell on it, "Winchesters wait until marriage,... sire," he added softly. While he'd decided that like his parents, he would wait until he was wed, sometimes his inexperience was somewhat embarrassing. "I'm not... I'm not experienced-" he mumbled. Surely the women the king had previously had in his bed were well versed in the arts of giving pleasure. "I''m so-mhm-" he was cut off by the king kissing him hard, with such a desire it took his breath away, and sent jolts to his groin.

"You're perfect!" Henry breathed, "No one has laid a hand on you, or tasted your lips but me. Do you know what that means to me- what you do to me?" He did not wait for, or expect an answer. He groaned deeply as Dean shifted in his lap. He ran his hands down the slick back, resting at the hem of the towel, "May I?" he asked. Dean nodded, and Henry quickly undid the wrap and threw the water-heavy cloth over his shoulder.

Dean shivered as he felt hands cup and gently squeeze his arse. "Oh," He mewed as and fell against the king's chest, feeling both tucked in by the heat surrounding them, and laid bare, by their nakedness. He bit the king's collarbone gently, and let his hands wander downwards. Henry's stomach muscles twitched as Dean's fingers pulled at the wrap. Dean frowned as it would not come undone. He pulled away, and gave it a hard yank that pulled the king a few inches forward. Henry laughed, pleased, and let the towel come undone. He lifted slightly and pulled it from underneath him, and threw it next to Dean's own towel.

Dean was slightly apprehensive as he crawled back into the king's lap. He was almost embarrassed to say that he truly did not believe that that would in any way fit within him, without hurting him. He reached out and touched it, but jumped a little at Henry let out a growl like groan at the touch, "Please go on," he said. So Dean did. No, it would not, he thought, even his fingers seemed dainty holding it. It was hot and very hard, but yet soft, in a way; very different form his own. He had never really pleasure himself, as the priests actively discouraged it, especially for some one as 'beautiful' as himself; such beauties were often tested more by the temptation of the flesh than those not so fortunate, he'd been told. Uncle Bobby said it was a load of horse dung, He pulled at it carefully, running his fingertips across the pillowy head, fascinated, eager and nervous all at the same time.

He looked up and Henry, who was rather flushed. Henry pulled him closer and slowly slid his hand between his cheeks, rubbing at his entrance. Immediately, Dean tensed. Henry kissed his shoulder, "Relax, I will only use my fingers," he promised.

"O-okay," Dean stuttered and tried to relax.

"Sit down on my thighs," Henry instructed. Dean did as he was told, and as the king spread his own legs, he fell against his chest. Henry wrapped an arm around him, and let the other wander down between their bodies, and between his legs.

Dean's breath hitched as the tip of a finger pressed into him. It didn't go far, and far that he was grateful; it felt big enough on its own. He wrapped his arms around Henry's neck and relaxed as much as he could. He felt so open and vulnerable as the king reached inside him. "Mhm," he whimpered as the finger wiggled deeply, and then trust slowly. He bit his lip and exhaled, his breath cool compared to the hot air in the room, making Henry's hairs stand up at the back of his neck. Soon he felt another finger enter him. It burned a little, but it was not painful. As the king moved his fingers in slow circular motions, he relaxed, and the burn faded.

"Last one," Henry murmured as he slid in his ring finger. Immediately, Henry slid them deep, aiming for that magical spot Compton had told him of. Of course he had not asked, but Compton, the exhibitionist he was, decided to share that little treasured piece of information.

"Ooh," Dean shuddered. The feeling shooting up his spine easily overpowered the burn of the invasion. "Henry," he moaned and pressed back, wanting more of that feeling. And Henry obliged. Of course, Compton had also told him, that when taken, a man could come more than once, much like a woman- but it was easier to make happen. Henry felt his finger slide easily into Dean's body and decided he was ready.

"Dean," he said, "Ready?" he asked, slightly surprised at the huskiness of his own voice. Dean looked at him with wide, almost fearful eyes. "Don't worry. You're on top; you control the pace," the king told him, stroking his sides. Dean raised himself slightly, his knees braced on the hard smooth stone of the step. Henry grabbed and steadied himself as Dean leaned back. Dean could feel Henry's manhood against his entrance, and even just by pressing it against it, it felt too big. "Bear down," Henry whispered, "It will be easier."

"Do you know from experience?" Dean bit, his nervousness making him snappy.

"Only what I've been told- by a trusted source," Henry assured him.

Dean bit his lip, uncertain at the sensations awaiting him, but he did as he was told, and bore down as the king tilted his hips slightly. Dean's knees slipped on the smooth stone and suddenly, the head was inside. Henry caught him, but his own arms were shaking at the purely insane pressure around the tip of his cock. "Ow-" Dean whimpered as tears sprang to his eyes; not as much from the pain as from fear.

"Shhhh," Henry soothed, "Take your time."

Dean nodded. It took a long time, but eventually he felt the king hit bottom, and he felt so full. He frowned; he felt so full, but he was not taking the king fully within himself. He felt behind, and felt several inches bare.

Henry grabbed his hips tightly, steadying him, "Relax, Dean, completely," he said and pulled out. Dean made a sound; that felt so strange. Then he slid back in, pressing against what Dean was sure was as far as he could go, but he was wrong; He felt something in him loosen and give. It was quickly followed by a hot rush, like glowing hot liquid was pouring out from within him. He gasped as Henry slid all the way inside, to the root. Dean slumped, shivering into Henry's arms. Then he tensed, unable to control his body, he arched and pressed down hard; like his body was demanding more already.

Steadying himself with his hands on Henry's chest, he lifted himself up, shivering at how open and sore he felt, then he slowly lowered himself. It burned a little, but only a little.

Henry's hands on hips hip, steady and ready to catch made him feel safer, more secure. It felt... strange. He felt filled, then empty, then filled again. He closed his eyes and concentrated on that feeling, trying to get used to it. He bit his lip, now how did Henry do that thing? He thought hard, if it was there... he thought, then tilting his hips like, "Oh-" His hands flexed involuntarily, scratching his current pool mate. Henry graoned as the slight sting, enjoying it.

Watching Dean ride him, was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. Or at least the most adorable. By the vice like tightness round him, he had plenty of empathy for Dean's slow pace. Also he suspested the olied water made it difficult for him to keep his balance, let alone move much faster. Dean moaned, loudly. Henry smiled and kissed his chest, lapping at the salty sweat. So he found it. Henry gasped as Dean clenched, and met Dean's downwards drop with a firm thrust. The blond gasped and grasped Henry's shoulders, clinging as he tried to calm the flash of pleasure shooting up his spine.

Henry pulled him close, setting him deeply in his lap, relishing Dean's wiggling at the full feeling. He kissed him, mapping out ever crevice in his mouth. WIthout as much effort as it hsould have taken, Henry stood up, holding his lover close, and place his bum as the edge of the pool. Dean shivered at the cool stone, but forgot all about the hard floor as Herny moved within him. It made every hair on his body stand out in shocked pleasure, "Henry-" He yelped into his neck.

"Lie back," Henry breathed, He could barely control himself. Dean did as he was told and instinctivly cradled Henry's body with his thighs, wrapping his calves around him. Henry thrust slowly, knowing Dean needed to keep track of everything that was happening. But as the youth whithered, moaned, twisted and mewed beneath him, control was quickly slipping. With a growl he hiked his legs up, hooking them over his arms, almost bending him in half.

Dean didn't protest the manhandling as the sensations tearing through him only got more intense. Henry drank in every yelp of pleasure, every time he struck that spot. Without much though, he pushed Dean's left leg up to his shoulder, hovering above him, sinking deep. "Aaah" Dean moaned brokenly. The intense flashes of pleasure were mind blowing, but this gradual building pressure inside, this burn was driving him insane. "Oh my Goood," he prayed and pulled the king close, needing the contact.

Henry kissed him, ravaged him as he drove them higher. He let the leg on his shoulder drop, a brief thought going to that it was not natural to be bent this way, and it could not be comfortable. He felt the tell-tale pressure in his loins and and unfamiliar lightheadedness. Dean immadiately surged closer, wrapping around him, using his legs to trap him.

Dean panted harshly as his body started to convulse. Henry seized up, surging into him, pressing as deep as he could go. Dean felt a rush of heat in his bowels as the king poured into him. He dimmly realised that his own come was smeared across their bellies, but could not move an inch to save his life.

Heny did not want to move, but he could not imagine the cold stone floor being comfortable. With a sigh he pulled his brain back into his head and wrapped Dean up in his arms, and sunk back into the hot pool.

Dean colapsed again his chest, and seemed to doze off. Henry could feel himself slowly softening and gently pulled out. Dean winced at the empty and weird feeling of the king sliding out of him. He adusted himself slightly and bit his lip as he felt the soreness, and the tenderness in his lower back. But it was nowhere near as bad as last time.

No, he decided; this was his first time.

This was what he would always remember.

~*~ 


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter 15

Somehow they had gotten out of the pool, mostly by Henry's insistense that he refused to be written down in history as drowned in his own pool. Which had led to them both to Henry's fur and silk filled bed, in a curled up and tangled ball of human limbs, Dean was fast asleep, but Henry was staring at the sky of his bed. As he laid there, hand genlty running throughthe messy blond hair, his fingertips continuing down the bare sunkissed shoulder.

He did not care what he had to do, laws he had to pass or people he had to kill, he would never let go of this precious treasure he had finally caught. The intensity of the feeling frighteneed him slightly; he had never truly cared for anyone in such a manner before.

He glanced towards the door when he heard the shuffeling of feet. Ah, he had ordered food to his room, had he not. He cursed his own lack of foresight and concluded that he'd have to simply shut whoever it was up before they could speak.

..

* * *

><p>Elena paused a blushed fiercely as she entered the king's bedroom. He laid in bed, clearly in the nude, with Dean curled up and wrapped protectively in his arms. "Put the food on the bed," he spoke quietly, but his voice carried well, "And the drink on the bedside table."<p>

Elena saw that Dean stirred as the king spoke, but the king immadiately caressed him, making him settle with a satisfied sound. As instructed, she put several smaller dishes on the bed. The king gave her a brief nod, and she nearly ran out of the room, all the while cursing Dean for being such a fool.

* * *

><p>Dean woke to rays of sun flooding through the windows. He frowned as he didn't feel warm arms around him. He rolled over on his back, and saw that he was alone. Disappointment tasted rather bitter, he decided. But on Henry's pillow there was a letter. With a smile, he stretched and reached for the paper. He bit his lip at the slight sting that flew up his spine, and his sore and swollen bum. He giggled slightly - not that he would ever admit that to anyone, but still feeling the king, made him almost giddy with joy. While his entrance was genuinely, just plain sore, he could actually feel his inner walls rub against each other. And he was generally just filthy. His own come was dried on his stomach, and the king's seed was still wet between his cheeks and the inside of his thighs.<p>

They had enjoyed a delicious dinner the night before, and then the king had done that thing with his tongue. Dean's cheeks grew hot at the mere thought. He had never known people did that sort of thing.

He opened the letter and read it quickly;

_Dear Dean,_

_I have never know such pleasure, as I have within you. Do not mistake my words for flattery when I say you are the most beautiful being I have ever laid eyes on. Even more beautiful when you a damp and flushed with the pleasure I give you. _

_As much as I would rather watch you sleep, I must attend the council meeting this morning. I'm afraid I will be occupied most of the day, drafting a treaty with France. You are welcome to stay as long as you like. On that subject, I would be delighted if you joined myself and the court to Flanders this winter. I am aware you have obligations to your family, but nothing would make me happier than for you to consider. _

_With all of my Heart, _

_Henry_

Dean flushed as he recalled the early morning hours; they had lain side by side, his back against Henry's chest, and made love again. It had been quite different from the pool. Dean was quite sure he'd love to be woken in such a manner more frequently. He seemed to remember Henry saying something as he left, but he could not remember, as he had been delirious in his post coital haze, and half asleep.

Glowing with joy, and his body lax from all the pleasure, he stretched and the burrowed into the furs.

"So you are Dean," he heard a female voice state plainly.

Dean pulled the covers closer, alarmed at the voice. He could not see much because of the curtains on the bed. But he had not expected the Queen herself to walk into his sight, an all her regal glory. He knew he should say something, but he could not get his voice to function. He was naked in the kings bed, covered in their juices and the king's fingerprints etched into his skin. Even the room itself held the heavy musky scent of their lovemaking.

The queen was dressed in a deep red dress, with gold details. Her black hair was shining and her skin pale and beautiful. She was beautiful.

"So how did you do it? The king has had many lovers- and bastard children," she sneered, "Lord knows he is unable to stay faithful..." she paused, "But you are pretty. I suppose I should be happy he has found himself a barren bitch to lick his balls this time." She took a deep breath and composed herself.

Dean wanted to sink though the ground and away from her judgemental icy glare. She had ever right to be angry with him. He had slept with her husband.

"So how long have you taken it for the king?" she asked. "How long have you been his whore?" she bit. "Because I assume he pays you. He always does, with pretty trinkets... What did he give you? How long? Answer me."

A tear slipped down Dean's cheeks, "Y-yesterday evening," he whispered. "I never opened his gifts... he would not let me return them." another tear slipped.

"Are you telling me, that the king came to me, and professed his love for you, before, he bedded you?" she asked in disbelief. She had no doubt that her husband was infatuated with the boy, but his infatuation usually went as far as his cock.

Dean pulled the sheets closer around him. Feeling like he was in front of a firing squad, he nodded,

"You are not a noble," she stated.

"I'm a hunter, you majesty," he said, his voice still low. He did not trust himself to speak any higher.

"Are you not too young for such a profession?"

"I'm twenty-one," he said, looking away.

"You are not even of legal age," she muttered to herself. "By his own laws, the king should be in the tower for bedding you." She looked at him, taking in his bruised body and swollen lips. The king had not been to gentle with the boy. "I just needed to see you for myself; my replacement."

"I can never replace you," Dean said, "You're the mother of his only child. He adores Mary..."

Katherine raised a brow, "He always was disappointed she was not a boy."

"He needs an heir," Dean said, "But that does not mean he loves her any less," he said, "He speaks so fondly of her..."

The queen took in his words with a short nod, "I do not envy you your task, Mr. Winchester. The king is not an easy man to please, in any respect." And with those words, she turned on her heel and left.

Dean sank into the bed, his mind racing, trying to comprehend what had just happened.


End file.
